It was as if all our tears had suddenly come to light.
I was in a panic running through the stripped and abandoned apartment building. Most everyone had gone. The mass migration was on and a mad globe spun around that. I was back to driving an Olds 98 I once owned but it was dented and I wanted to trade it before I had to move. But the oppressive chaos educated me on my foolishness.
Environmental collapse closed in on a worldwide scale leaving only pockets of survivability. The day of debate had passed, this was a living reality. Yes, we really had fucked up nature's support system, our stubborness beyond all reason insisting on our own way. Even now we were of two minds, clinging to remnants of the old ways, talking of money and economics. News reports came in that some heady folks in Belgium had it all figured out how to keep both our money system and environment. But how the hell was I supposed to get to Belgium?
My only thought was on finding a safe place.
"Those Belgian bastards!" I cursed to myself. "Why did we have to be so stupid and not figure things out? I'm always on the losing end, it is my constant shame." But the whole Belgian story was a lie, just another group wallowing in self-deception. Though eroding like a cliff side in a withering rain, pride still existed for living a lie - always considered mankind's greatest triumph.
I was working for a newspaper but they had run out of resources. It was really strange because in the end they had run out of capital letters. And being tuned into all the news reports only hurt me, cluttering my mind with illusory facts made on the wings of wishful thinking. No, better to know thine own self than hear the echoes of false hopes.
New identities emerged, each person known by his or her greatest sin. I was known as "The Man Who Let Down Sherri Wright". Sherri was the ultimate in femininity, still to this day the prettiest girl I've ever met or seen - including any model. But it wasn't just her physical gifts but her warmth and excitement and the fact she was a fantasy plucked right out of my head that made her so special. Most of all, she'd been sent to save me - but I had run away in fear. I knew then my life was over but I lacked the courage of a bullet.
Like the world, every day I lived on the greater the price I paid.
I was one of the last holdouts in my bare, barren building. A girl showed up and I wanted to dodge her now that my identity had been revealed, walking around with this dark cloud of shame I could not escape. But she was kind and talked to me and I listened to her as I winced in pain at her discovery of me. She told me to forget everything but survival. Worrying about trading up the car, transporting all my unwieldy possessions, trying to hold onto the old life - forget about all that. The pride of lies had turned fatal.
I acknowledged her words, wondering if she noticed my deep inadequacy and if she'd seen me truly would she still stop to help me. "It's just me." I found myself saying that mantra over and over again, guilt clubbing me like a mindless, unstoppable baboon. The Age of Artificial Answers was gone forever. Can't debate your way out of hunger, no slick arguments to trick the truth. Money was the biggest problem. The girl warned me on the lack of electricity wherever I might have to go and after all, what is money but an electronic number?
As in all desperate times, bandits rose to the top of the hierarchy. If I pulled out all my money where could I physically keep it safe? "Why the fuck are we even still using it anyway!" I decided to keep it in two spots, a small amount to be robbed by the bandits and the rest in a place hopefully they would not find. Only, I knew they would find it as they inevitably pillaged my car on the road to nowhere.
You see, it was all coming to light, every last damn thing we'd ever done to create life or death. I remember thinking, "This is who we really are." I need to find my manhood before I die, hope for the world had escaped in the night.
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